


Looking After You (Like You Do For Me)

by DryCereal



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst Free Zone, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sick Phil Lester, Sickfic, TATINOF, Tour Bus, Travel, Worried Dan Howell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: Phil's sick. Not for the first time on this tour, but making sure he's okay will always be Dan's priority.





	Looking After You (Like You Do For Me)

“I look like absolute shit.” He says in frustration, after giving up trying to tame his hair into anything that didn't scream ‘restless night after long haul flight'

He casts a longing look at the hair straighteners lying unused on the countertop, despite knowing using them would be a complete waste of time in this city-sized-humidifier.

"Oi! Don't talk about my-" is all he hears before the rest of the sentence is cut off by a particularly violent coughing fit. And he's heard _plenty_ of those to compare it to over the past 24 hours or so.

Phil's sick.

Nothing major, at worst it's a flu bug he's picked up, probably at one of the Meet and Greet sessions they'd done prior to each show, but he's sick, and they're abroad, somewhere they're not familiar with, which combined with the fact they're both tired from the tour and the travel, makes Phil miserable, and Dan worried.

  
The flight from Brisbane to Hong Kong had been a miserable nine hours. Phil had made an offhand comment about not feeling too great before they'd left for the airport, but they'd brushed it off as tiredness at first, and both decided to do their best to sleep the flight away so they'd be rested and able to explore the city when they arrived.  
  
By the time they’d checked in for the flight Dan was revising that opinion. Phil was… distracted. Quiet. Off in his own little world. Not that was unusual. What was causing his concern was that Dan was struggling to get his attention, or any sort of response out of him. It’s not something he’d ever say aloud, knowing (despite it being true) how it would sound to anyone else, but getting and keeping Phil’s attention wasn’t usually at all challenging. Hadn’t been for _years_. (though it was the same in reverse.) Unless something was **wrong**. And clearly something was.  
  
After clearing security, following a tense, but thankfully short wait, watching as Phil obviously struggled to focus on the questions he’s being asked for what would otherwise feel like the hundredth time this year alone, Dan guides Phil towards the nearest set of shops in the departure lounge. If he hadn’t been worried, the similarity between this and how they spent their time at Heathrow on the way out to Australia would probably have led to a few whispered jokes. But even though the tables are turned this time, he’s too focused on getting something to help Phil feel better and make the rapidly approaching flight bearable that any potential irony passes him by.  
  
After scanning the insides of each store they pass, Dan admits defeat and heads into the main duty-free store, quickly finding one of the assistants, and asking if and where they stock any painkillers, Phil following as closely and quietly as a shadow. It doesn't take long to choose from the small number of products available, and after paying, they quickly find an uncrowded, quieter area near their gate to wait for boarding. Phil, after swallowing a combination of pills and capsules immediately slumps across two of the bench-style seats, head resting on his backpack. Dan sits next to his head, fingers threading through Phil's hair absently as he watches planes and airport vehicles of all kinds crisscrossing the airport tarmac, an action that probably soothes his own frayed nerves more than anything, as Phil falls into a fitful sleep within minutes.  
  
Rousing him when their flight is called for boarding isn't easy. He's still half-asleep when they present their boarding passes and passports to the agent, who makes a joke about him needing to stay awake at least through the safety briefing, so much so he barely reacts. Dan smiles half-heartedly back, thanks them quietly when he receives their passports back, then guides Phil into the tunnel and onto the plane. 

He spends the entirety of the flight unable to relax, waiting for Phil to stir (he does, once or twice, but not for much longer than it takes to have a quick drink, and to take another dose of the medicines Dan presses into his overly warm hand about halfway through the flight,) and also constantly alert, ready to deflect the well-meant, but unwelcome advances of the crew members. He knows what Phil likes when he's not feeling well, after near-enough seven years together, and it's not hot or alcoholic drinks, and neither will he be happy at being woken up to be offered food. Instead, Dan hoards the snacks and "extras" on the meal trays throughout the flight, on the off-chance Phil does wake up wanting something to eat.

It's ultimately a pointless endeavour, Phil stays asleep for the majority of the flight, so Dan mounts a watchful guard over his sleeping boyfriend, not for the first time this year. The circumstances, although similar, are slightly different this time.

  
He remembered all too clearly a day spent worrying, cursing the phrase "the show must go on" whilst simultaneously pretending to edit and catch up with emails (left largely ignored, and definitely unanswered since the day before Playlist Live.) All a convenient excuse in order to give Phil a chance at peace and quiet enough to sleep as long as possible before the meet up and the show that evening, him lying hugging his pillow on the sofa, with Dan sat opposite, in an armchair, startling and ready to jump up any time Phil coughed or moved in his sleep, or if there was a knock on the door. He hadn't been thrilled about the short bursts of filming the crew had wanted to film that day, but in hindsight, the clips had come in handy for the documentary, so it'd proved worth it to be sat stiffly for those few minutes, willing Phil to stay asleep and no one to do so much as breathe audibly, let alone knock into something and disturb his sleep. Truth be told, he’d just been on edge after his own disturbed sleep the night before.

Sensible idea though it might have been in theory, lying curled up in a bunk that seemed to be at least two feet shorter than he was, and about a foot narrower than he needed, so either his bum or his knees were hanging over the edge wasn’t going to result in much, if any sleep. And as the night wore on, it seemed to be getting smaller. First lurch from the bus, and he’d be hitting the floor in a tangled mess of sheets, pillows, limbs and probably curtains.  
  
He just couldn’t relax. Not alone, and not in that stupid, too-short bunk he’d exiled himself to, leaving Phil to get as much sleep as possible in the bedroom.  
  
And why? “So you don’t come down with whatever it is too.”  
  
He’d decided to take his chances. On the balance of things, Phil’s main symptoms seemed to be aches and tiredness. Exactly what he'd end up with if he’d stayed lying awake where he currently was all night.

With an exasperated sigh, he’d quietly pushed the curtain aside, then bent almost double, in order to sit up, and swung his legs out over the edge of the bunk. Shuffled forward, then dropped down, careful not to disturb the people in the bunks around him, no doubt sleeping better than he's managing right now, and just as careful to keep his eyes on the floor, in case there was anyone still awake in the lounge area, watching disapprovingly as he crept into their bedroom. (There wasn’t. Not that he’d have cared.)  
  
He’s rewarded for his efforts when Phil, seemingly as half-conscious as he’s been all day apart from when they’ve been in front of an audience, turns and burrows into his chest as he slips under the covers. The only response to the affectionately muttered “Did you miss me, you lump” he’d received was his boyfriend nuzzling sleepily between his shoulder and his neck, and he himself had fallen asleep with the fingers of one hand buried in Phil’s hair, the other resting across the arm reaching across his chest.

As a bonus, he hadn’t gotten sick afterwards, either.

 

The plan had been to film either a mini "Day in the Life" vlog, or possibly another Pokémon Go video for the gaming channel. They hadn't had time to do one whilst they'd been in Australia. If they weren't on stage, meeting fans, or travelling, they'd done their best to hang out with Martyn and Cornelia as much as possible. Just to hang out. They both felt, and had spoken about the little bit of residual guilt over the relatively small amount of time they'd been able to spend together _not working_ whilst they'd been in America. Not that it could be helped with how insanely busy they'd all been, and with sleeping and travelling on different buses, but still. They'd been determined to make up for that on this leg of the tour, and they had managed to spend a fair amount of time together, and had a few fun trips to various places, in between shows. Now they were taking some time away, travelling around a bit on their way home, instead of heading straight back to the UK like Dan and Phil had elected to do. (Not counting the almost-compulsory layover in Hong Kong)  
  
Well. That had been the _plan_. In reality, Phil had collapsed fully dressed onto one of the beds the minute they were in the hotel room, and by the time Dan had finished up in the bathroom, he was deeply sleep. Smiling fondly, Dan had just removed his shoes and covered him over with the throw from his own bed, not wanting to wake Phil just to get him into bed properly. As an afterthought, he removed his boyfriend’s glasses, and carefully placed them on the bedside table, along with a bottle of water and a couple of the snacks he'd hidden away in his bag earlier, before getting into bed himself and quickly falling asleep.

 

When he woke up, after the momentary ‘where am I, what day is it, what’s happening’ panic of waking in yet another strange place yet again this year had subsided, he’d checked on Phil. The water bottle had been open and half-drained at some point, and the clothes he’d travelled in yesterday were dumped in a pile on the floor, but the man himself seemed to be back asleep. Smiling with relief, Dan had grabbed his toiletries bag from his case and gone into the bathroom for a shower, after brushing a quick kiss on Phil’s slightly-too-warm temple.

  
He hadn’t intended on waking his boyfriend, but best laid plans… Dan burst back into the bedroom, keen to ascertain how Phil was feeling, and if needed, how he could improve matters before their flight back to London.

 

“So. On a scale of sniffles to post-Playlist-Georgia-death-plague, how bad is it really?” He quips, reaching over from where he’s sat on his unmade bed to hand Phil the glasses his scrunched-up-eyes are looking for. Instead of thanks, Phil just tries to frown at him, before he winces, and a genuine frown settles on his paler-than-usual face.  
  
“ _Daa-aan_. Just go catch a bloody Farfetch’d and leave me in peace to die.” Aha. Not all the things Dan had said to a semi-cognisant Phil had disappeared, it seemed. He’d held onto some of it at least, no matter if he looked pretty awful still, truth be told.  
  
“Headache? You want a drink? There’s coffee on the side, but I can fill your water bottle if you want...?” He watches as the frown intensifies, along with a definite downturn of the lips as Phil settles back against the headboard, pulling up the duvet to his shoulders.  
  
“Is that you saying it’s bad enough I need to bring you back some of those _natural locally produced_ _remedies_ we saw on the way out here.”

“You’re the wor-" The rest of the sentence is drowned in another coughing fit. Dan waits until it passes, not wanting his response to go unheard.

“Right. Cough medicine with added beetles and centipedes.”

“I’d honestly rather die” replies Phil, grimacing exaggeratedly, clutching his chest for added effect, before sticking out his tongue at Dan.

“Well, before you do, put this on and sit up whilst I film an intro before I go _sacrifice_ my hair to get you some medicine. It’s _so_ humid out there Phil, you don’t understand.”

“You’ll attract all the Tangelas then. Get loads of candies.”

“Yep, and in ten years if they ever update the game properly I’ll be able to evolve it.” He finishes, brandishing his phone in a still-shirtless Phil’s general direction as if it were a threat. “Now c’mon. No nipples on the gaming channel. Imagine the uproar if the little kids saw AmazingPhil all semi-naked…!”  
  
He’s still half-laughing as he starts filming the intro to the video.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished this one. It's been sat mostly-done in my notes since who-knows when, but I hope if you've gotten this far that you enjoyed it!
> 
> (That was a lie... probably. I think it's been on the go off and on since I posted "Raise the Drawbridge" - right before they uploaded the damn Farfetch'd video and destroyed the headcanon that inspired that fic...)
> 
> Anyway... if you don't think Dan gets suuuuuper-protective of sick-Phil then we can't be friends. That's just the way it is. ~~Sorry.~~
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below, or to gimme a shout on @DryCerealThief or https://drycerealthief.tumblr.com/  
> Or not. S'all good!


End file.
